Through The Looking Glass
by kittyfantastico
Summary: CM JJ Challenge. Companion to One Side Of The Coin. A day in the life of Sydney Bristow. Please R/R!


Companion to 'One Side Of The Coin'.  This one contains three of the requirements: a heat wave, an original character (Lauren) and the destruction of a well-known monument (Tower Bridge – hope it's well-known enough)

AU, but set around the time of early S2.

Title: Through The Looking Glass

Author: Kittyfantastico

Rating: G

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The choices we make have an impact on our lives, but some things are just meant to be.

Twisting around anxiously in front of the mirror, Sydney nervously smoothed her clothes and hair.  It was early in the day, but it was already very hot and she was uncomfortable in her suit.  However, she had a job interview in half an hour and was eager to make a good first impression.  For the final stage of her course at University she had to do teacher training in a school, so she was very anxious for this interview to work out well.  Since her mother died when she was only six years old, it had been Sydney's ambition to follow in her footsteps and become a teacher; now that she was so close to achieving this dream, she could not help the butterflies that flitted around in her stomach and the happy twinkle in her eyes.

Glancing back up at the mirror, she looked herself in the eyes and wished that she didn't look so worried.  It was just one school, after all.  If this didn't work out, well, there were plenty of other schools in the area.  She frowned, silently reprimanding herself for thinking negatively – yesterday Sydney had decided that a positive thinking, glass-half-full kind of attitude was the way to go – and was surprised by the anger she saw in her reflection.  Her frown deepened as she looked at herself in the mirror.  The woman she saw, her reflection, looked so bitter and angry at the world and Sydney didn't want to be like that.  She hadn't thought she was like that, until this moment.  She forced herself to relax, realising that she didn't feel bitter or angry or hateful – she just looked it.  She relaxed her face and watched her reflection move in perfect time with her.  Perfect time, always in perfect time.

Suddenly, Sydney began to dance.  She twirled and spun in front of the mirror, sliding back down the years to her childhood, moving back until she stood in front of the long mirror in her parents' bedroom.  As she moved, she watched her reflection intently, trying to move quickly and catch her reflection out: a game she had played through her lonely childhood, the little girl on the other side of the mirror her secret friend.  She let herself go, her emotions pouring into her movements and relieving her from pent-up energy and anxiety.  Her actions became softer and more graceful as the nervousness seeped out of her and she was left with a comforting peacefulness.

Though her reflection stayed in perfect time with her, Sydney could not help noticing a certain sharpness and roughness to her movements that she knew she was not performing with herself.  As she came to a stop, she wondered why the woman on the other side was so full of rage, and what had happened to make her so unhappy.  Because she did look unhappy, there was no denying that now.  Just as Sydney's happiness and peace of mind had come across in her dancing, this woman's rage and sense of betrayal had been brought forth.

Suddenly realizing the time, Sydney gathered her things and left the room.  As she passed the mirror she looked once more at her reflection, wishing that the woman gazing back at her could feel the same happiness that she did.

*          *            *

In the car on the way to her interview, Sydney realised that she would have to quit her job at the bank for a year while she did her teacher training.  This, she decided, was a definite plus.  Her job, though well paid, was tedious and she was looking forward to getting away from it.  Of course, it would mean that she wouldn't get paid for a year, but perhaps she could persuade Francie to let her work evenings and weekends at the restaurant.

She continued with her thoughts of work and began to wonder, not for the first time, what her life would be like if she had accepted Arvin Sloane, an old friend of her father's, on his offer to work at his branch of the CIA.  Years ago he had approached her with this offer, and she had given it serious consideration before laughing at herself for daring to imagine that she was suited to the life of a spy.  Sometimes she allowed herself to imagine the glamorous lifestyle she would have had – jetting off to exotic lands week after week, discovering evil schemes and saving the country on a daily basis – but she was always brought back to reality with the realisation that she was just Sydney Bristow, a normal grad-student who enjoyed watching cheesy romantic comedies, reading books and spending the evening curled up on the couch with her friends.

By the time she had come to her usual conclusion – that the life of a secret agent was not for her – she was pulling up to the school.

*          *            *

The woman nodded, smiling, as she looked over Sydney's recommendation from her professors.

"This is fairly impressive," she said, approvingly.

"Thank you," Sydney smiled.  She was pleased with the way the interview had gone so far, and thought that she would enjoy working at this school if she was given the job.

"I just have one last question," said the woman, looking back up.

"Ask away," Sydney replied, trying to appear relaxed and cheerful, despite her nervousness.

"Why do you want to become a teacher?"  The woman fixed Sydney with a kind, but intense, stare as she waited for an answer.

"Well," began Sydney.  "My mom was a teacher.  She died in a car accident when I was six and I've wanted to be a teacher ever since.  She used to read to me when I was little," she smiled fondly at the memory.  "I've always loved reading and I want to teach kids to appreciate literature, the way my mom taught me," she finished quietly and looked down at her hands clasped in her lap.  The woman took a deep breath, as if she could lighten the mood by breathing in all the sadness, and stood up.  She held out her hand to Sydney.

"Thank you, Miss Bristow.  You'll hear from us in a day or two," she smiled encouragingly while Sydney shook her hand and followed her out of her office.

*          *            *

After her interview Sydney went to meet her friend Lauren for lunch.  They sat outside the little café, absorbing the glorious sunshine.

"Apparently, it's a heat wave," Lauren informed her, taking a sip of her coffee.  "They think it'll last a week or two."

"Who's 'they'?" Sydney asked.

""The weather guy.  I saw it this morning.  Anyway, how was your interview?"

"It went well actually," Sydney smiled.  "I mean, I think it did.  I'm handing in my notice at the bank anyway.  If I don't get this job I'll get another one.  There are loads of schools around here."

"Ugh, you're so lucky," moaned Lauren.  "I wish I could quit."  Lauren worked at the bank with Sydney and they shared a mutual dislike of their jobs.

"You could.  You could get a different job," Sydney attempted to console her friend, although they had had the job-quitting conversation many times before and it always ended the same way.

"Oh yeah, doing what?"  Sydney smiled sympathetically.  "I just have to accept my fate.  I'll be working there until I'm old and grey," Lauren said cheerfully.

They ate in silence for a minute or two, both of them watching the passing traffic, dog-walkers and skipping children.

"Hey Syd," Lauren leaned over the table, talking quietly, her blue eyes dancing happily.

"Hmm?" Sydney looked up inquiringly.

"That guy over there has been looking at you for about five minutes!" Lauren replied, excitedly.

"Which guy?" asked Sydney, twisting round to look over her shoulder.  Lauren grabbed her hand.

"No!  Don't look!" she squeaked.  Sydney laughed and shook her head.

"You're like a kid sometimes."

Lauren opened her mouth to make a retort but she was stopped by the man in question coming over to their table.

"I'm about to look really stupid," he said nervously.  "I've never done anything like this before...I don't usually just go up to people I don't know but," he stopped and held out his hand to Sydney.  "I'm Michael Vaughn."

Unsure of what to do, but captured by his beautiful smile, Sydney shook his hand.  "Sydney Bristow," she told him with a smile of her own.  They were both silent for a few seconds, just gazing at each other with dazzling smiles.  Suddenly, Sydney remembered Lauren.  "This is Lauren Taylor," she said, indicating her smirking friend.

"Nice to meet you, Lauren," said Michael with another smile.  "So, um, Sydney, I was wondering if you'd like to go see a movie with me tomorrow night?" he asked, encouraged by Sydney's still-present smile.

"I'd love to," she replied softly.  Taking a pen out of her bag, she wrote her phone number on a napkin and handed it to him.

"I'll call you later to arrange it," he said, pocketing the napkin.  He glanced at his watch.  "Well, I'd better get back to work," he said and Sydney thought he looked a little disappointed that he couldn't stay longer.

"Okay, I'll talk to you later.  Bye Michael."  Sydney was sorry to see him go but was still so amazed by the experience of meeting him that she couldn't think clearly.

"I'd better get back too," Lauren said with a frown, getting up from her seat.  "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah.  Try not to have too much fun at work without me."  Sydney got up and picked up her bag before hugging her friend.

"Very funny," Lauren said before they parted.  "Enjoy the rest of your day off!" she called as they walked in opposite directions.

*          *            *

The end credits of _Ocean's Eleven _began and Sydney got up, yawning, and stretched her arms above her head.

"Do you want something to drink?" she asked Francie.

"Diet Coke please, sweetie," Francie replied, smiling lazily up at Sydney from her position curled up against the armrest of the couch.

As Sydney poured their drinks into two glasses she thought about Michael and their date tomorrow.  He had called her earlier and everything was arranged; he was going to pick her up, and after the movie they were going to one of his favourite restaurants.  Sydney couldn't wait.  Francie had been thrilled when she had told her about him.  Two years ago, Sydney's fiancé, Danny, had died in a car accident.  Sydney had been in the car with him, but she had escaped with only a broken arm and a slight concussion.  That, and a shattered heart.  It had taken her until now to finally accept her loss and to move on; her date with Michael would be her first date since Danny, and Francie was relieved that Sydney was able to put the past behind her and go on with her life.

"Syd, look at this," Francie said when Sydney re-entered the room and handed Francie one of the glasses.  Francie had switched the movie off and was now watching the news.

"What is it?" Sydney asked, sitting back down.

"There was an explosion," Francie replied, her eyes still glued to the television screen.  "Tower Bridge, in London.  It's completely destroyed."

"Oh my God!" Sydney exclaimed, horrified.  "Was it an accident?"

"They don't know, but apparently someone was seen running away seconds before it happened.  God, I hope no one was hurt."

Sydney nodded in agreement.  They sat there, transfixed by the scene unfolding before them.

*          *            *

Before she went to bed, Sydney stood in front of the mirror again, contemplating her life and the direction it was about to take.  Her wrist ached slightly where she had injured it the other day, so she tried to ignore the pain by thinking of Michael.  Truth be told, she had thought of little else all afternoon.  Suddenly she felt guilty, as if she was betraying Danny.  She gave herself a disapproving look in the mirror, and before she knew what she was doing she found herself in tears.  She watched herself crying for a moment, and silently she said goodbye to Danny and embraced her new life with tears of relief and joy.

She felt free, as if a weight had been holding her down and was now lifted.  Looking more closely at her reflection, she felt that the woman she was staring at did not feel the same.  A wave of sympathy washed through her and she gave the woman in the mirror a final compassionate glance before turning away.  She turned reluctantly, as if she wished she could help this woman who looked exactly like her, yet in a way was unrecognisable.  She was sure she had imagined it, but for a moment it looked as though her reflection turned a split-second before she did.


End file.
